


Roll the Bones

by irithyll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime Fighting, F/M, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Mystery, Oh lord it's a S.T.A.R.S. fic, Romance, canon? I hardly know her, pre-Arklay, references to dumb in-game mechanics, the beginning of it all, this fic is dumb as heck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-06-29 16:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19834225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/pseuds/irithyll
Summary: After being dishonorably discharged from the Air Force, Chris struggles to adjust to civilian life, but he is unexpectedly recruited to join a special tactics squad in order to combat rising violence in nearby Raccoon City. With little to lose, he decides to give it a shot, but a mysterious string of murders, an infuriating captain, and falling in love with his partner prove to be far more than he bargained for.





	1. Redemption

The repetitive thump of the fast-paced music that beat in the background was beginning to get on his nerves. Each boom of the music seemed to come in tune with the pounding in his head and Chris tightly clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate his building headache. He maneuvered his way through the crowd to momentarily settle down at the bar and avoid the flashing neon lights that flickered above the dance floor.

The low, purple glow of light that came from the glass shelves behind the bar was far easier on the eyes. Chris sighed and leaned his elbows on the overly polished bartop, eyes still closed as he took a moment of reprieve. Truth be told, he was half tempted to walk out on the job. Bouncing for the shady little nightclub was more of a chore than anything, but he couldn't afford to be in a jobless limbo as he searched for something better. His seventeen-year-old sister was beginning to apply for college and the application fees alone were enough to make him sick.

Being fresh out of the Air Force at twenty-three, Chris wasn't left with many options on the job front. After living the military lifestyle, he found it impossible to settle down in a cubicle and stare at a computer monitor from nine-to-five day in and day out. His only options in the little town seemed to be enrolling in the police academy or working security, but the former didn't have much appeal given the fact that the most frequent crime that occurred in the quiet suburbia was drunk driving.

Honestly, though, it wasn't like the latter was particularly glamorous. His typical shift consisted of keeping underage kids out of the bar and enduring the raunchy slurs drunken boys spat at him in an attempt to impress girls. Every now and then, he had to rough up some hammered asshole, but few had the gall to approach him on account of his stature and impressively mean mug.

"Not looking too good, Redfield." The bartender cooed sweetly as she dried off her hands with a towel.

Chris smiled wryly as he regarded Naomi with a bored expression.

"This dump is giving me a migraine."

The red-headed woman laughed good-naturedly before ducking beneath the bar to retrieve a small plastic bottle. Sliding it across the bartop, she winked knowingly before turning to pour him a glass of water.

"Tylenol." She explained as she set the glass down in front of him with a heavy clink.

Chris gratefully accepted the medication and tossed a couple of the tablets into his mouth before chasing them down with the frigid water. Naomi was one of the few coworkers that he could tolerate and he was appreciative of her motherly personality.

Finishing off his drink with an impressive gulp, he loudly set the glass down with a sense of finality.

"Well," He lamented, "Duty calls."

Chris weaved his way through the herd of patrons in search of the entrance. With any luck, he'd be able to convince Evan to switch positions with him. His fellow bouncer had been tasked with fielding those who attempted to enter the club and, though Chris wasn't particularly fond of the endeavor, it was preferable to enduring the torture of the loud, smoky bar.

He found the blonde man languidly leaned in the doorway with a flirty smile plastered on his face. Before him, two girls giggled nervously as they dug through their purses in search of their IDs. Chris knew they were underage-in fact, he was certain that the long-haired, blushing brunette was one of Claire's classmates.

As she offered the plastic card to Evan, Chris reached forward to snatch it from her grip. He studied it for a swift moment before snorting and handing it back to her.

"It's fake," He deadpanned and shifted his attention to her companion, "And I'm sure yours is too."

The brunette extended her painted lower lip in an exaggerated pout as she looked to Evan for mercy. She batted the long, fake lashes that framed her light blue eyes and adjusted the generous neckline of her dress to offer a more thorough view of the full curve of her breasts.

"Do I look fake to you?" She asked with a whine and Evan emphatically shook his head, his own eyes glued on her progressively lowering neckline.

Chris let out an exasperated sigh and thumped his coworker on the back of the head with a hard flick of his finger. Evan had a terrible habit of being lax in the face of pretty women and Chris was often forced to clean up after him once they were illegally granted entry. It was a task that he had grown exhausted of and he wasn't presently in the mood to entertain it.

"Don't you have algebra homework to do?" He inquired with his own lips pulled into a smug smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest, emphasizing the swell of his upper arms and the breadth of his shoulders in an intimidating gesture.

The girl's cheeks puffed outward in anger and she opened her mouth to speak, but her friend caught the sleeve of her dress and gave it a tug.

"Let's just go to Zack's party instead." She murmured, her eyes held low to avoid looking at Chris.

Evan remorsefully watched the pair scamper off and sighed.

"Man, you could've at _least_ let me get her number."

Chris wrinkled his nose in disgust at the comment.

"She was a kid, Evan."

The younger man grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he retorted, "Maybe, but her body sure as hell wasn't a kid's."

Chris gave him an incredulous glare. The mere _thought_ of sleeping with a girl Claire's age made him sick to his stomach. Evan had no business messing around with high school kids, nor did any of the other schmucks lurking in the dark of the seedy club.

"Whatever, man. Just switch with me," He gestured towards the entryway with a thumb before adding, "I've got a killer headache and the music is pissing me off."

Evan gave it a moment of thought before obeying. As he turned away, he snickered under his breath and lightly punched Chris in the shoulder.

"What _doesn't_ piss you off, bro?"

He elected to ignore the comment. Once the door to the club slammed closed behind Evan's retreating figure, he was met with the comforting quiet of the night. The chill in the air licked at the exposed skin on his arms and offered him relief as he leaned his head back to look up at the sky. In the late hour, the light pollution had been minimized and offered him a decent view of the stars.

Time moved slowly. He watched the occasional car pass by from his perch at the front of the club with disinterest. As the night progressed, guests began to clumsily stumble out of the club in wait for cabs. Chris grimaced as he witnessed a woman teeter on her heels while she leaned over a stretch of bushes nearby in order to vomit into the foliage.

Around half past two, a pair caught his attention. A man who appeared to be in his early thirties crept out of the club with his arm around a woman who dazedly staggered across the sidewalk. The dark shades he wore despite the late hour seemed suspicious and Chris reached forward to catch him by the shoulder as he passed.

The man huffed and he tightened his hold on the girl. With his opposite hand, he lowered his shades just far enough to glare at Chris with his dark eyes.

"Problem?" He asked and Chris frowned hard as he watched the girl's head limply loll back against his shoulder.

"Yeah."

Chris straightened his back, rising to his full height as he stepped around the man to get closer to the girl. Tersely, he called out to her, but the only response he was granted was the quick flutter of her eyelids falling open and closed.

"My girl drank too much," The man snapped, defensively pulling her a little further away from Chris's scrutiny, "And I'd like to get her home."

The fullness of her cheeks and the excessive amount of make up smeared across her eyelids strongly suggested that she was _much_ younger than the man before him. Chris narrowed his eyes as he looked her over once more and noted the small enamel pin attached to her purse, one that depicted a lion.

Claire's high school mascot was a lion. Could have been a coincidence, but his gut said otherwise.

"Yeah? How'd the two of you meet?"

The hesitation that came before the half-assed lie on the man's part was proof enough for him. Chris gave the guy a sharp look and shoved him in the chest as he wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders and cradled her against his own.

"You have five seconds to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops."

"Dude, who the _fuck_ do you think you are?"

Having apparently heard the man's shout, Evan poked his head out the front door. His eyes went wide with bewilderment as he took in the scene before him and Chris gave him a sideways look.

"Take the girl inside. Call the cops."

The man laughed.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Chris only shrugged defiantly and the man lunged in his direction. In response, Chris reeled back his arm to catch the man's face with his fist. The blow caused him to stumble back and he defensively clutched the side of his face. He stared at Chris in wide-eyed terror as blood dribbled freely from his nose and cascaded down the back of his hand.

This time, the man heeded his advice and scampered away down the sidewalk.

As he shook the errant droplets of blood off his hand, Chris decided that it might be time for a change after all.

* * *

The nutty aroma of freshly brewed coffee stirred him from his sleep. With a groan, Chris rolled over in his bed and cracked open an eye to peek at the clock on his bedside table. It was nearly two in the afternoon according to the vivid red digits on the display and he didn't dispute it. The bright sunlight that filtered in through the blinds seemed apt for the early afternoon.

Sitting upright in his bed, Chris ran his fingers through his short hair and yawned. The knuckles on his right hand were throbbing and he winced as he looked down at them to find them stained with purple and red bruises. Irritated, he threw his olive green comforter aside in search of the t-shirt he had discarded in the middle of the night. He found it tangled in the sheets and tugged on the wrinkled grey shirt without much of a second thought before exiting his bedroom.

He found Claire on the battered old couch in the living room with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and she was dressed in one of his old Air Force t-shirts that threatened to swallow her small frame whole. A steaming coffee cup was loosely gripped in one of her hands as she watched the television with morbid interest as _Halloween_ played on the screen.

"Spending the weekend with your boyfriend, Michael, I see." Chris joked, voice still gruff with sleep as he plopped down on the cushion beside her.

Claire didn't bother to spare him a glance.

"He's more charming than half the losers at my school."

Chris snorted and stealthily seized the cup of coffee from her weak hold. After taking a healthy swig of it, he passed it back to her and she gave him a disgusted look.

"Did you even brush your teeth yet?" She asked, horrified.

He simply laughed and leaned back into the couch to prop his feet up on the coffee table as he watched Michael Meyers wreak havoc on Haddonfield. While the villain strangled a teenage girl with a telephone cord, Claire finally spoke up.

"You got some mail." She commented, nodding towards a thick envelope on the lower shelf of the coffee table.

Curiously, Chris reached for it, squinting as he made out the looped script printed on the front of the packet. It was definitely addressed to him, but why was Raccoon City Police reaching out to him? Had some petty, drunk fuck filed a lawsuit against him?

Timidly, he tore open the seal of the envelope and carefully pulled out the documents stored inside. He skimmed over the words and came to an abrupt stop as he mouthed, "Wait, what?"

Claire halfway turned towards him in order to keep sight of the film in her periphery.

"Huh?" She asked, distracted.

"'On account of your prior military achievements, you've been selected as a candidate of interest for the Special Tactics and Rescue Squad of the Raccoon City Police Department.'" He read it aloud as if it were a question, openly puzzled by the letter.

The statement broke Claire from her trance. She whipped her head in his direction and furrowed her brow, equally confused.

"Wait, what?" She echoed. "You're not even a cop."

Chris flipped the letter over in search of more information, but the back of the paper was blank. Also enclosed in the envelope was a small sheet of heavy-weight cardstock that was ornately printed with the details of an invitation to an information session.

"Junk mail?" He asked and Claire leaned over to read the contents of the letter for herself.

"Uhh, I don't think so…" She responded, "It's signed by Chief Brian Irons. He's the head of Raccoon Police."

"How the hell would you know that?" Chris questioned and she shrugged.

"Current events modules in social studies class, bro. You should try reading the paper sometime." She paused before adding, "I mean...if you even know _how_ to read at an eighth grade level."

Chris rolled his eyes as he tossed the packet onto the table, but he played the words over in his mind throughout the remainder of the film. Special Tactics and Rescue Squad...hell, what did that even _mean?_ Was it some sort of S.W.A.T. team? Why the hell would they be reaching out to him?

After a moment of thought, the identity of the culprit dawned on him: Barry Burton. Barry worked for the Raccoon Police and, as of recently, had been busting his chops about his situation.

" _Chris, man, what the hell are you doing? Are you_ really _satisfied roughing up drunk kids for a living? You were a hell of an Airman, Chris, and you'd make a hell of a cop. You know, I could put a word in for you with the Chief…It'd be just like old times."_

Their last conversation had left him feeling embarrassed. Barry had served in the same unit while they were enlisted, but the older man had progressed far better than he had. Barry was happily living in Raccoon City with a wife and two daughters, whereas Chris…

He sighed as he took in the sight of the wallpaper peeling away from the wall of his parents' old home. Twenty-three years of life and what did he have to show for it? A dishonorable discharge from the military because he couldn't ever keep his fucking mouth shut?

It wasn't like he could boast about single-handedly raising his kid sister on a resume. After their parents died, he was left with no choice but to assume care of Claire, but he was admittedly a little prideful about the way she turned out. Claire was driven, headstrong, and a hell of a lot smarter than he had been. She certainly wouldn't make the same dumb mistakes he did.

Chris picked up the letter again and re-read each word printed on the page a few times before the weight of it truly hit him.

Perhaps S.T.A.R.S. was his much-needed shot at redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I just irresponsibly started a S.T.A.R.S. fic. Why am I like this? What is wrong with me? Will someone please stop me? Where is Xaori to keep me in line?


	2. Bested

The way the sharp, starched edge of his collar rubbed his neck raw made the meeting all that more unpleasant. Claire had insisted on preparing his clothes for him-so he didn't look homeless as _usual_ , she explained-but he reckoned that he could have done a better job on his own. As discreetly as he could manage, he hooked his finger around the edge of his collar and gave it a subtle tug in an attempt to free his neck from the apparent cotton noose.

The information session was held in a large banquet hall within downtown Raccoon City, mere minutes away from the police precinct. Despite the warm light provided by the chandeliers overhead and the comfort of the padded chairs that accompanied the elegantly set tables, Chris found the entire scenario to be uncomfortable.

He attributed half of his discomfort to his company. Seated beside him was a long-haired man in a navy blue suit, one whose obliviously loud southern drawl nearly persuaded him to drive the steak knife in front of him into his own eye. The guy never seemed to stop talking and Barry was far too friendly to not entertain his conversation.

"Duuuude, you were stationed in Bosnia too?!"

As he scanned the room, Chris rolled his eyes. Of _course_ they had been stationed in Bosnia too. It was one of the most devastating conflicts in Europe to date, so where the hell else would they have been sent?

He wasn't one to talk much about his deployment. Chris never considered himself to be much of a hero, let alone a respectable Airman. His dishonorable discharge made certain that he'd never look back on his service with even a semblance of fondness and he allowed Barry to brag about their exploits overseas instead.

Inevitably, the antagonist introduced himself as Former Corporal Forest Speyer of the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit. Were he not so fucking loud, perhaps Chris would have been impressed by his accolates. He found it difficult to believe that anyone as boisterous as Forest had accomplished even half of the feats he claimed to have achieved.

Just as he began to detail one of his apparently _numerous_ search and rescue operations, a greying, portly man approached the podium placed at the front of the room. The entire banquet hall fell into silence as he smiled brightly and regarded the room with an air of confidence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate you all for coming out tonight." He greeted with a wave of his hand, gesturing towards the many tables strategically placed around the room.

"I am Brian Irons, Chief of Police."

The room filled with the sound of applause and Chris half-heartedly joined in as he lightly clapped in order to feign interest in the man.

"I am accompanied today by two very accomplished men who you all will come to know _very_ well over the next couple of weeks."

Chris watched as the two men approached the stage.

"I have the pleasure of introducing Captain Albert Wesker, former engineering officer of the United States Army, who has been appointed to lead those who will be recruited to S.T.A.R.S. Alpha Team."

The faintest hit of a smirk surfaced on the man's lips. He stood stoically beside Chief Irons, clad in black with his arms crossed over his chest in a cold stance. Despite the comfortable lighting in the room, a pair of dark shades obscured his eyes from view, and Chris resisted the urge to laugh. What a fucking douche this guy seemed to be.

"And Vice Captain Enrico Marini, former Navy Chief Warrant Officer, who will command the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team."

The other man, who sported a thick moustache and wide stance, seemed a hell of a lot more tolerable than the Alpha Team's Captain.

Chris quickly began to lose interest in Irons' speech as he droned on about Mayor Michael Warren and the Bright Raccoon 21 initiative. From what he gathered, the city had recently experienced an economic boom that transformed the formerly rural town into a respectable, industrialized city. As to be expected, with the influx of new citizens came a spike in the crime rate, and the Special Tactics and Rescue Service was meant to somehow combat the insurgence of high grade crime and terrorism within the city.

Once Irons mentioned that only ten of the applicants would be accepted onto the team, Chris's interest was piqued. He diverted his attention away from the Chief to get a rough head count of attendees and size up his competition, but quickly lost sight of his mission as his gaze fell on a woman who sat on the opposite side of the room.

Chris wasn't a particularly sentimental guy, but the mere sight of her winded him. Her position at her table left her directly within his line of sight with her body positioned towards him, forcing her to turn her head to the side in order to observe Irons' speech. The ends of her short, dark hair fell right at the height of her neck, leaving the smooth expanse of skin bare. He followed the line of her neck to the prominent cut of her clavicles and the pale skin of her shoulders that were left exposed by the off-the-shoulder cut of her navy blue dress.

When the woman turned her head, her thickly-lashed, powder blue eyes met his, and Chris began to wonder how the hell he hadn't noticed her sooner. Whatever Irons had been saying in that moment fell on deaf ears as their eyes remained locked with one another's. As cliche as it seemed, Chris lost track of time in that moment. Something about her drew him in, a strange sense of familiarity as though he had known her his entire life.

And then she smiled - a slight, feminine, _knowing_ smile that suddenly made breathing feel as though it were a chore. Chris had to remind himself to inhale and, just as he found the strength to do so, she turned away to once more focus those pretty eyes on the Chief of Police.

The dining hall was swiftly filled with sharp applause and Chris, still half-stunned, followed suit with a slow, languid clap of his own hands.

"Man, I'm so psyched!" Forest exclaimed as he gave Chris a hard nudge to the side with his elbow.

Chris gave him a pointed look that Forest either didn't notice or decided to outright ignore.

"What about you, man? It's like boot camp all over again, huh?"

Chris only nodded, unsure as to what the hell the guy was referring to. As the wait staff began to deliver the meal to the tables, he glanced back over at the woman from before. She paid him no attention this time as she spoke with a woman who appeared to be far younger than her, one with short, dark hair and rounded cheeks that hinted at her youth.

"Did you tell Claire you'll be away for two weeks?" Barry asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as a result of Chris's behavior.

Chris turned back to him and shrugged a shoulder.

"For the try-outs," Barry clarified, "The two weeks of physical and mental trials that Chief Irons spoke about."

So _that_ was what Forest had been referring to.

"Oh, yeah." Chris remarked with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Of course."

This time, when he looked back, she was gone.

* * *

Chris could feel sweat begin to bead at the back of his neck as he stepped into the dark building. His skin tingled, hairs standing on end as his senses were forced into overdrive on account of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The lobby was nearly enveloped in pitch blackness with the only available light source being the slow, rhythmic flicker of a fluorescent light in the hallway ahead.

"This is Big Dog to Sassy Pants. Do you copy?"

Chris could practically hear the smirk on Speyer's face as his voice drawled in his ear. Scoffing, he paused in the corner of the room and lowered the volume of his earpiece in order to preserve his eardrum for the mission at hand.

"What the fuck, Speyer?" He hissed, "This isn't a game."

Ryman chuckled quietly from beside him, an action that only served to worsen his ire.

"I have no intel on 'Speyer.'" Forest snarkily responded. "Sassy Pants, have you made it to the coordinates?"

"Confirmed." Ryman interjected, playing along with his best attempt at an imitation of Chris, "Approximately how many tangos should we expect, Big Dog?"

Chris rolled his eyes and Robinson nudged him in the side as he murmured, "Lighten up, Redfield. It's all in good fun."

"Intel suggests three tangos in total, Pretty Princess," Speyer snickered, "Anticipate two civvies being held as hostages."

Chris furrowed his brow in annoyance as he made his way to the map posted on the wall nearby. Clicking on his flashlight, he illuminated the frame in order to study it in detail. It was a fire escape plan for the building, the abandoned, old Raccoon General Hospital that had been replaced by a larger, more impressive structure as part of the Bright Raccoon 21 project. The three storey building hadn't been used since its closure three years ago and Chris wondered just how dilapidated it had become in that period of time.

"Hostages on floors 2 and 3." Speyer divulged, "Scrotum Squad, do you copy?"

Chris was compelled to smash the earpiece below his boot, but forced himself to remain silent as Robinson confirmed that the message had been received. Uninterested in entertaining the conversation further, he gestured for his team to follow as he approached the hallway.

The long stretch of hall was barren. At the very end, Chris could make out the faint glow of the exit sign poised above the stairwell. Nodding to the men behind him, he began to maneuver down the hall with a light step. The weight of the vest slowed his movement and he shifted his shoulders in order to alleviate the burden of it.

As he approached one of the rooms along the path, he positioned himself against the wall and turned towards his colleagues. There was no telling if the enemy was lying in wait in the dark room and the three men nodded to one another in understanding.

With his handgun drawn, Chris entered the room, flitting the beam of his flashlight about in search for signs of life. The room was fortunately empty and he tapped on his earpiece to open the communication channel and notify Speyer that the room had been cleared.

"Nice work, Sassy Pants." He cooed and Chris inwardly groaned.

The remaining rooms along the sides of the hall were empty. Progressing to the stairwell, Chris took caution to carefully open the door in order to make as little noise as possible. As Ryman and Robinson began to filter in, he looked upwards in order to determine if the stairwell was clear.

The door slammed loudly behind them and Chris whipped his attention to Robinson, who mouthed an apology with his hands lifted in the air in surrender.

"You're going to compromise our position." Chris harshly whispered and Ryman patted the younger man on the back comfortingly.

"Don't mind Sassy Pants." Ryman advised and Chris let out a frustrated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Lives are at stake here, fucknuts." He grumbled as he began to ascend the first set of stairs.

The second floor was unsettlingly silent. Patient rooms lined either side of the hallway until it opened up into a large area that contained the nurses' station. On the opposite side of the station, the hallway was mirrored with several identical patient rooms staggered along its length. In the low beam of his flashlight, Chris could see disturbed dust particles floating through the air - a sign of recent activity.

"Look alive." Chris whispered gruffly, readying his weapon.

With a light step, he began to tread down the hallway. His pace was calculated and slow as his eyes flitted back and forth in search of the faintest hint of activity. Chris wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist as he hesitated outside one of the rooms before swiftly pushing the door open, pistol drawn in preparation to fire.

It was empty.

Letting out a soft sigh of relief, he continued. Robinson and Ryman had taken the opposite side of the hall and were making greater distance than he was, but he'd be damned if he got sloppy and compromised the mission.

As he swept the third room, a loud _thud_ echoed from down the hall, followed by Robinson's muted cursing. Before Chris had a chance to poke his head out to survey what had occurred, two shots rang out.

"Fuck!"

Chris stepped out into the hallway to see Robinson lying on the floor with a hand clutched to the front of his chest. A dark figure loomed over him, arms extended as the assailant kept the barrel of their pistol trained on the fallen man. Before Chris could react, the PA system chimed to life.

"Frost, Robinson shot you too. You're both out." Enrico's voice called out and the man standing over Robinson clicked his tongue loudly in disdain.

"You sure?" He questioned as he holstered his weapon and turned towards one of the cameras installed in the corner of the room, "I don't think Robinson knows how to shoot, sir."

The only response he received was a round, blinking light that glowed squarely on the front of his vest, signifying where he'd been shot. Frost simply sighed and leaned forward to offer Robinson a hand in order to help hoist him to his feet.

"Redfield, Ryman. Proceed with the mission."

With that order, Chris was immersed in the scenario once more. Paying the disqualified men no mind, he continued to assess the area. He traveled around the nurses' station, making certain to not trip on the toppled over ficus tree that he suspected had led to Robinson's demise.

"There's still a hostage on this floor." Speyer warned, his voice cut by static.

Another gunshot sounded and Chris quickly spun on his heel to see Ryman standing in the doorway, gun raised as he stared into one of the patient rooms. He half-sprinted down the hall in order to meet him, but caught sight of motion out of the corner of his eye. With his heart pounding in his ears, Chris turned and fired a single shot, causing the man's vest to light up as he furiously squeezed the trigger of his own weapon in rapid succession, opening fire on an unsuspecting Ryman.

"Ryman and Aiken are eliminated. Ryman, you killed a hostage."

Barry meandered out of the room Ryman had hesitated at, his own vest flashing.

"I had a wife and kids, you dick." He teased and Ryman buried his face in his hands in order to hide his embarrassment.

"It's up to you to avenge the Scrotum Squad, Agent Sassy Pants," Forest sniffled theatrically into his ear, "Make us proud."

In response, Chris pulled the earpiece from his ear and tossed it to Barry. Barry eyed it curiously, but Chris's hard glare was enough communication to understand. Putting it into his own ear, he slipped into a thick Russian accent and mumbled, "New phone, who dis?"

Chris found himself in the stairwell once more with the chatter of his teammates fading into the distance. He paused for a moment to collect himself, breathing deeply through his nose before ascending the stairs. His interactions with most of the S.T.A.R.S. candidates had been minimal thus far and he wasn't sure what to expect of the final opponent, but his expectations weren't particularly high, either. Given the performance of the others, he assumed success would come easily.

The upper floor was identical to the last. A skylight positioned above the nurses' station allowed moonlight to filter into the area, casting everything in a pale, solemn glow. Chris tightened his hold on the grip of his handgun and strained to make out even the slightest hint of a sound. Faintly, he could make out a slow, rhythmic noise that reminded him of an anxious tap of a shoe against tile.

Still, he remained vigilant. Given the quality of the sound, he assumed it was coming from the nurses' station. If that were the case, how convenient it would be for the hostage to be placed in plain sight. It seemed far too simple.

Like a trap.

Chris elected to ignore the sound and began to sweep the patient rooms in a methodical fashion. These rooms were smaller than the last, just narrow enough to accommodate a bed and single chair. A narrow slit of window sat high upon each wall, letting in the faintest bit of light. The rooms were all empty, some partially destroyed for abandoned renovation attempts.

As he stepped from the third room, a devastating silence filled the hall. The tapping from before had ceased and he felt a chill slither down the length of his spine. He was certain that his presence was known and he quickly slipped across the hall to the next room. Pushing it open with the toe of his boot, he slid in the narrow crack between the doorframe and partially ajar door with his weapon ready.

A petite woman was kneeled in the center of the room, one Chris recognized from the information session a few days prior. She let out a sigh of relief and stood, palms turned upward to prove that she was unarmed. An ominous feeling came over him and he swiftly turned on his heel, finger trained on the trigger. He expected to find his opponent looming in the doorway, but instead found nothing at all.

This was an unexpected turn of events. The mission was to retrieve the hostages and eliminate all hostile personnel, but the latter remained to be seen.

"Don't move until I tell you to." He ordered in a low whisper and the woman nodded.

He should have known better, really, but how could he have anticipated what came next? Chris assumed he would find the final enemy holed up in one of the rooms with their weapon ready. Camping was an easy strategy, especially when forced in such close quarters.

Chris didn't expect to be tackled to the ground the moment he stepped through the door. He hadn't been reckless with his exit - he had promptly turned right in order to check the remainder of the hallway, but his attacker had caught him off guard and approached from the left. Unceremoniously, he tumbled to the ground, catching himself on his right shoulder with a grunt as his gun clattered across the floor.

With his heart thumping loudly in his chest, he threw back an elbow with as much force as he could muster. He heard his assailant exhale sharply as his elbow met a hard surface that he assumed was their ribcage. Attempting to take advantage of the situation, he tried to lift himself from the floor with his opposite arm, but his enemy repositioned themselves. He was forced to remain on his side as they shifted to straddle the side of his hip, pinning him down by locking their legs around his pelvis.

Chris rolled onto his back, causing his opponent to land on the ground. They remained steadfast and took hold of his left arm, immobilizing it with their own. He hissed as he felt the tendons in his arm stretch to their limits and closed his eyes tightly, contemplating his next move. Though he had been unarmed, his opponent _hadn't._

He quickly thrust his free arm over his body and ripped his attacker's pistol from its holster in one fell motion. Without hesitation, he roughly shoved it against the center of their vest and squeezed the trigger, causing it to vibrantly flash. He dropped the gun as the person released their grip on his arm and lifted themselves from his body. The lights suddenly flipped on and he grimaced, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand as he rose to his feet.

When he lowered his hand, his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of a pair of familiar blue eyes.

"Valentine...eliminated with her own weapon, no less!" Enrico called with a laugh, but Chris found it hard to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support so far. You all warm my dirty little Valenfield heart. As usual, this chapter was partially brought to you by Xaori. I don't know what I'd do without either of you! If you're interested in keeping up with my shenanigans, feel free to follow me on tumblr at irithyll-writes :)


	3. Flutter

Chris could hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears as he regarded each S.T.A.R.S. candidate with scrutiny. Enrico had unexpectedly called the group away from the hotel at four in the morning to assemble in the gym for a combat drill, an exercise that he claimed would not only showcase their physical attributes, but their critical thinking abilities, as well. It wasn't the prospect of inflicting injury on his cohort that bothered him; rather, it was the fact that he didn't know what to expect of them.

Absentmindedly, he rubbed at the soreness in his arm. Jill Valentine, he had discovered, was somehow even more endearing on the field than at face value. Though she was certainly attractive in the physical sense, there was something about the fight she had put up in the last training session that rattled him in a way he couldn't describe. They had not exchanged many words once she had relented her assault in Raccoon General Hospital, only cordial compliments uttered between ragged breaths.

Naturally, his gaze settled on her, and he was stunned to find her staring right back at him. The fire in her eyes that he had observed the night before had not subsided and he wondered if she considered this event to be her chance at revenge. He had not intended to humiliate her during the mock rescue mission, but Forest had been rather eager to rub the loss in her face.

"Greetings, candidates." Wesker droned, cool and even in his delivery despite the early hour.

The way the fluorescent lights reflected off of Wesker's sunglasses irritated him. Chris had yet to see the asshole without his shades and he idly wondered if perhaps today would be his chance to smack them off of his face.

"Your performances today are very important. Those of you who already have and continue to fail to meet expectations will be eliminated from the competition. Understood?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in temptation to curl into a smirk as the group begrudgingly indicated confirmation of the terms.

"Without further ado, we will proceed." He leaned against the nearby wall and crossed his arms over his chest, regarding the crowd with a look that likely could have been interpreted as bored were it not for the dark shades obscuring his eyes. "Speyer and Valentine, please step onto the mat."

Forest visibly gawked in response.

"With all due respect, Captain," he insisted, "I don't think it's appropriate to put me up against a woman."

Wesker chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he asked, "Are you afraid to lose to a woman, Speyer?"

Forest laughed incredulously, shaking his head as he mumbled, "Just don't wanna accidentally kill her or somethin'."

Jill's jaw was set hard as she stood at the edge of the mat, eyes sweeping over Forest's frame in a calculated manner.

"And I'd hate to bruise your fragile male ego." She deadpanned, earning laughter from the rest of the group.

Chris felt something catch in his chest at the sound of her voice and he struggled to pull his attention from her long, pale legs that her compression shorts left on display. The shape of her legs and the ache in his arm were proof of her athletic prowess and he felt excitement bubble in his chest. He was looking forward to watching her put Speyer in his place.

"Alright, but don't come crying to me if you break one of your nails." Forest warned with a snicker as he stepped onto the mat in kind, extending his arms above his head in a stretch.

"I hope she beats your ass!" Joseph shouted from the sidelines and Enrico whistled loudly to hush the resulting laughter.

"Alright, kids, enough is enough!" He called out amusedly. "Are you ready?"

Chris hadn't realized he'd signaled for the fight to begin. Jill darted across the mat with a speed that he could hardly register, propelling herself into the air once she came within a few feet of Forest. Her right foot connected with the left side of his hip and she used it as leverage to quickly bring her left leg over his shoulder. Catching his right arm in her hold, she twisted, wrapping her legs around his opposite arm.

She tugged his right arm, using her own weight to draw him towards the ground and she rolled off of her back to gain the upper hand. Forest laid out on the mat with Jill on his right side, one knee positioned over his face and the other beneath his armpit as she stretched his right arm to its anatomical limit. Chris held in his laugh as he watched Forest flail in an attempt to escape, his face growing progressively more red with each swing of his free arm. Jill held his arm tight within her grasp, pulling it close to her side to further restrict his movement.

Forest frantically slapped the mat with his opposite arm, struggling to breathe as he yielded to her arm bar. Enrico shook his head in second hand embarrassment as several of the S.T.A.R.S. candidates whistled appreciatively.

"Enough." Wesker spoke and Jill released her hold, quickly rising to her feet and leaving Forest on the ground, panting and slick with sweat.

"Shit, woman." He managed between gasps. "I think you broke my arm."

Jill shook her head, dark strands of hair brushing against her chin with the movement. "If I wanted to break it, I would have."

Joseph burst into another fit of laughter as Forest grunted, pulling himself upwards to a seated position as he cradled his arm. His cheeks were flushed red with both exertion and embarrassment and he leaned his head forward, allowing his long hair to obscure his face.

"Speyer, please excuse yourself from the mat." Enrico ordered, doing his best to maintain his professionalism despite the grin on his face. "Redfield, you're up."

His name sounded foreign and Chris stared blankly at Enrico.

"Hey, Redfield, he said you're up!" Kevin yelled, finally catching his attention.

Chris briefly looked over at Kevin with a glare before stepping onto the mat. The foam was firm and cool beneath his feet and he felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach. From across the mat, Jill smiled softly - a genuine, genial expression that sent the butterflies into a frenzy. In response, Chris fought back his grin and nodded, but the twinge of his lips didn't go unnoticed on Jill's part.

"No breaking arms this time, Valentine." Enrico teased and she laughed under her breath as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

The whistle sounded and the two of them stood still, posture at attention as they stared at each other from across the mats. Jill's arms were raised in a defensive gesture and Chris experimentally took a step forward, eliciting no reaction from his opponent. He closed more distance between them and Jill stepped to the side, prompting the two to circle one another slowly.

"Y'all just gonna flirt or what?!" Joseph shouted, catching Chris off guard. He had nearly forgotten they had an audience.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Jill moved, stepping forward with her left foot. She hopped slightly, shifting her weight to her right leg as she raised her left in an attempt to kick him in the left side. Her aim was off and she was forced to lower her leg to maintain her balance, leaving her standing at Chris's left side with her back facing him.

Given their prior encounter, he should have seen the scissor sweep coming. As he moved to step away, her right leg swung around his front, hooking across the front of his chest. The action caused her to turn in his direction and she cupped the back of his neck with her right hand as she leaned forward, placing her palm against the mat. Her left leg rose off the ground as they maneuvered towards the mat and she extended it across the backs of his knees, putting her weight into her right leg and forcing him down to the ground.

Chris was pressured to lay on his back, his abdomen pinned down by her right leg as she pulled her left from behind his knees. She quickly maneuvered perpendicular to him, falling to his side and throwing a couple of weak punches in his direction. In defense, he lifted his arm to catch her fist and she took advantage of his reaction.

Jill threw her left foot over his hip and grabbed his wrist, falling back onto her ass as she stretched his arm into a bar. She shifted her hips, swinging her right leg over his head and seating herself on his shoulder. Her left leg closed in, moving across his chest, and she pulled his arm across her body to hold it taut in position. Her hips rose and she thrust them upwards, forcing his elbow to straighten and strain against the pressure of her hips.

Chris grit his teeth in frustration and winced at the pain in his arm and the proximity of her hips to his face. He could smell her, a mixture of sweat and a light floral scent that made him dizzy, and he grunted as he struggled against her. Somehow, he made out the sound of laughter above the beat of blood in his ears, and he took in a deep breath through his nose before moving.

He reached over to grab his own arm and entwined his fingers together by looping his free arm beneath her head and bringing his hands together over her face. He shifted, forcing Jill back onto her shoulders, but she maintained her hold on his arm. Her chin was forced against her chest as he rolled her backward, but she was steadfast with her grip. Seeing no alternative, Chris utilized the position of his arm and lifted her off of the mat with the intention of slamming her against it in order to force her to let go.

Jill foresaw his next move and simply relinquished her hold on him, falling back to the mat and gracefully landed on her feet. She hopped backwards to maintain distance between them, but Chris moved swiftly. He hunched down to the ground and tackled her, gripping her by the backs of her knees and ramming her thighs with his shoulder. Jill leaned over his shoulder and thrust an elbow into the back of his shoulder, but he persisted. He lowered himself to his left knee and used it to pivot, bringing his right leg around the backs of her legs to trip her.

She fell back against the mat with Chris in tow. His arms were locked around her hips, fists resting against the full curve of her ass as he pressed the side of his face to the flat plane of her belly. Jill thrust her hips upwards and twisted, wrapping her legs around his waist. In response, Chris fell back to sit on his knees and lifted her legs away by pressing his hands to the backs of her knees. He ducked out of her straddle, lifting the lower half of her body before dumping her onto her side.

He moved to lay beside her, nearly spooning her as he slipped an arm beneath her head and threw a leg over her hip. He rolled back, locking his legs around her waist to hold her in place on top of him. She thrashed and he slipped an arm beneath her left armpit as the other came over her right shoulder. Chris locked his hands together and pressed his own head to the left side of her face, tucking himself into the space between her neck and shoulder. He reared back and repositioned his right hand, letting his palm fall onto her left shoulder as he forced her neck into the bend of his arm. Sliding his left arm from beneath her armpit, he pressed it to the back of her head, angling it forward and into the choke.

Her palm landed against the mat with an audible _smack._ A few seconds passed and she slapped it once more, tapping it repeatedly in surrender. Chris immediately loosened his grip, clenching his eyes closed as he fell back to the mat in exhaustion. Jill, too, tumbled backwards and he caught her quickly, cradling her head against his shoulder as she gasped for air.

The fluorescent lights above were nearly blinding. Faintly, he made out the sound of muted applause, but struggled to decipher the words being spoken over the sound of his own heartbeat. Jill was light and pliant against him, her skin hot and slick, and he loosely wrapped an arm around her to hold her against him.

Too soon for his liking, she pulled away. Jill sat upright and Chris groaned as he rose to a sitting position. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and clambered to his feet, turning to offer her a hand in order to assist her to standing. Jill hesitated before placing her palm in his and he hoisted her up effortlessly.

"Damn good show, guys."

Chris turned, Jill's hand still in his hold as he moved to face Enrico. The older man grinned and clapped, but Wesker was far less enthusiastic. Though his shades obscured his eyes, Chris knew he was staring right at him. Wesker smirked, nodding to himself before his lips parted into a feral smile that caused bile to rise in Chris's throat.

"Valentine. Redfield." Wesker addressed. "You are both to return to the hotel and await further instructions."

Chris was suddenly aware of the weight of Jill's hand in his and he let it go as he turned to her. She simply nodded in response to Wesker's order, but her eyes momentarily remained locked with Chris's before she beelined for the gym's exit.

Chris followed despite the hushed whispers that flitted about. He found her outside of the gym, leaned against its brick face as she stared out at the orange glow that had begun to surface over the horizon. The warm light of the sunrise emphasized the flush that dusted across her cheeks and her chest continued to harshly rise and fall as she fought to catch her breath. Her hair was tousled and he noted the sweat that dampened the fitted grey shirt that she wore as he struggled to keep from staring at her legs.

"Good work back there." She suddenly spoke, voice slightly husky from exertion.

Chris swallowed hard, mouth suddenly parched, and he found himself wondering what _other_ activities could leave her breathless.

"You too." He quickly complimented. "I, uh...hope I didn't hurt you."

Jill smiled and turned her head towards him, an amused expression dancing in her eyes as she whispered, "Likewise."

The butterflies in his stomach stirred to life once more and Chris suddenly found that he really did hope to make the cut―so long as Jill Valentine did, too, of course.

"Eh, I'll live." He shrugged. "Though, I have to say...you have one hell of an arm bar."

Jill laughed, a light and contagious sound that brought a wide, boyish grin to his face as she responded with thanks. Chris paused, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck as he hesitated to summon up his courage before speaking.

"Not that you need it," he gestured towards his reddened arm to illustrate his point, "But I'd be honored to walk you back to the hotel."

Jill looked back at him from the corner of her eye, the sunrise bathing her skin in a healthy glow.

"Not that I need it," she gestured towards his reddened arm to illustrate her point, "But I'd be honored to have you walk me back to the hotel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it begins! I had a horrible time trying to make sense of this chapter and did the best I could after consulting my boyfriend who has ten years of brazilian jiujitsu experience and has no idea that I write fanfiction. My apologies in advance!


	4. Crush

As he stared hard at a line of dirt trapped between the ridges of the metal flooring of the transport vehicle, Chris struggled to keep his knee from bouncing in anticipation. This mission was deemed to be the final trial in determining who would be selected for S.T.A.R.S. and Chris's stomach was seemingly flopping around in his abdominal cavity. Truth be told, he wasn't necessarily nervous about the outcome of the mission—no, he was anxious because he had been partnered up with Jill _fucking_ Valentine.

The sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires filled the heavy silence that settled between them. Beside him, Jill sat stoic, her hands neatly arranged in her lap as she listened to Joseph and Forest chatter on about what their mission might entail.

"Maybe we have to defuse a _bomb_ or something." Joseph said animatedly, his own eyes wide with excitement at the mere prospect.

Forest rolled his eyes and shook his head, leaning forward to rest an elbow on one knee as he grunted, "Doubt it. None of us have explosives experience, Frost."

Richard smiled to himself as he leaned his forehead against the cool metal interior of the transport vehicle. Lazily, he gestured towards the heavy vests that they were instructed to wear, the very same ones utilized in the rescue mission from before.

"I suspect we'll be 'shooting' each other." He offered with a laugh, running a hand over his closely cropped hair.

Chris hooked a thumb beneath the edge of his vest and shifted its weight, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to alleviate the tension within them. He slid back on the bench and pressed his back to the wall of the vehicle, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he focused on the vibrations that passed through his body as they traveled the rocky terrain.

"Aren't you nervous, Redfield?" Joseph asked, reaching behind to tighten the knot of the crimson colored bandana that seemed to perpetually be present on his head.

He cracked open an eye to watch Joseph as he shrugged.

"No point in being nervous." He lied despite the sweat that slicked his palms. "Whatever happens will happen."

Joseph scoffed at the response, crossing his arms over his chest in irritation.

"That's such a lame answer." His brow furrowed as he offered his critique. "I know you've gotta be a _little_ nervous even though you're, like, the best."

"Hey!" Forest slapped a palm against his knee and the loud sound caused Joseph to jump.

Brad, who typically remained silent, muttered under his breath, "Redfield is right though…"

Jill breathed out through her nose as she held in a laugh and the sound caused Chris's lips to twitch into a near smirk. Joseph's eyes were narrowed into slits as his glare flitted from Chris to Jill and back again.

"I guess you're not worried about the outcome because you get to spend the evening with your _crush._ " He teased, concluding his statement with an exaggerated pucker of his lips.

Before Chris could manage a retort, the vehicle came to an abrupt halt, jerking forward on its tires and catching the group off guard. The driver's door slammed shut and they were greeted by Enrico as he pulled open the doors of the trailer.

"Redfield and Valentine." He addressed them with a cordial smile and they both jolted upright, standing at attention. "Out of the vehicle, please."

Joseph's low whispers were indecipherable as Chris hopped out of the vehicle to survey their surroundings. The moon was positioned high up in the sky, bathing their surroundings in a pale, eerie glow. They were standing at the edge of the main road, surrounded by a thicket of trees that left little to be seen beyond their reach.

"The entrance to the tunnels is down that way." Enrico informed them, pointing at the shoulder of the road that took a steep descent downward. "Your mission is to clear the area and retrieve the item within."

He waited for more instructions that didn't come.

"What item?" Jill pressed and Enrico only laughed.

"That's part of the trial." He ominously replied, slipping a backpack that had been slung over his shoulder down the length of his arm and offering it to her. "Good luck."

As the Captain made his way back to the cabin of the truck, he paused and offhandedly commented, "Your colleagues have the same objective. Work fast."

The two watched the truck depart until it was barely discernible in the distance. Jill unzipped the backpack and peered within, squinting in the low light. She reached within it and rifled through the objects inside before retrieving two flashlights.

"Well, this sucks." She commented and Chris laughed as he flipped the switch on the flashlight with his thumb, illuminating the trees with the fluorescent glow. At the bottom of the hill, two doors starkly stood out against the earth, presumably leading to the aforementioned tunnels.

"It does." He admitted. "But we'll manage."

He carefully made his way down the slope of earth, occasionally wavering on his feet as he struggled to maintain his balance. The dirt below gave way with the weight of his steps, creating a precarious terrain that threatened to send him tumbling. He looked over at Jill and found that she fared far better, lightly tiptoeing down the path with seemingly no effort.

Once underground, Jill closed the doors behind them. Darkness fell over them and all was quiet aside from the faint drip of water in the distance. She shifted the weight of the backpack over her shoulder and shined the light down the stretch of tunnel that sat before them. The walls were made of concrete and the entire path seemed cylindrical in nature, barred from entry by a wrought iron door—a _locked_ wrought iron door.

Chris lifted the padlock in his palm and stared hard at it for a moment before giving it a harsh tug that yielded no result.

"Did they forget to unlock it first?" He asked incredulously.

Jill stood quietly beside him as she gingerly picked up the lock, angling it so that she could see the keyway.

"No." She set the lock back in his palm and dropped the backpack on the ground, lowering herself to her knees as she dug through it once again. "It's for me."

"What?" Chris watched her pull a case from the supplies they had been issued.

"It's a warded lock." Jill said quietly. "It won't take long."

She laid the case on the ground and opened it, shining her light over a series of metal objects. After a moment of deliberation, she pulled one and handed him her flashlight as she took the padlock back into her hand. He supplied the light source as she began to pick the lock, releasing it in a matter of mere seconds.

As she placed the lockpick back into the case, she must have felt Chris's stare. Turning to look at him from over her shoulder, she smiled sheepishly as she admitted, "S.T.A.R.S. took interest in me because of my talents in breaking and entering."

Chris was speechless for a moment as Jill packed up her tools. The revelation on her part piqued his interest. Jill Valentine was a woman of many skills, it seemed, and he couldn't help but wonder what type of history she had. He suspected that she was former military given her purposeful gait, attentiveness, and perfectly pressed clothing. She was reserved, careful, and disciplined—the perfect soldier.

"You were Army." He conjectured aloud and Jill smiled as she took the flashlight back into her possession.

"Guilty as charged," she pushed open the door, wincing at the way it creaked on its hinges, "1st SFOD-D."

He suddenly felt incredibly small in comparison. His dishonorable discharge wasn't even worthy of being compared to her Delta Force experience. Though he had not served in the Army himself, rumors had trickled through the other branches of the military regarding Delta Force's purpose. They were the badass, the _elite_ , the shitkickers who stuck it to terrorists and excelled in reconnaissance. Why the hell was the RPD giving him the time of day when candidates like Jill existed?

"For the record, Forest was wrong." Jill turned towards Chris and laughed. "Bomb disposal was my other expertise."

Jill Valentine was officially the hottest woman he had ever met.

The underground tunnel was desolate and seemingly endless. The path took sharp turns that merely led to more narrow passageways and Chris began to feel slightly claustrophobic. Despite the chill in the air, he could feel the sweat begin to saturate the back of his shirt in his anticipation. He had no idea where they were going or what they were looking for.

"Where are the others?" He asked and Jill paused to study their surroundings in the artificial light.

"I have no idea." She turned around to look back in the direction from which they came. "Maybe we took a wrong turn."

As he moved to face the same direction, the beam of his light passed over the ceiling above and he caught the glint of a red reflection in his periphery. He looked upwards, shining his light directly above, and noted a small, blinking red light high above.

"The hell is that?" He squinted in an attempt to get a better look at the small object.

"It looks like a hatch," Jill observed, staring upwards, "But it's too high to reach."

The weight of the training pistol on his hip became heavy. Chris thought back to the blinking lights on their vests in the rescue trial and the lock that had seemingly been placed specifically for Jill. If the RPD had special interest in the candidates for their skills, what did he have to offer?

His marksmanship, the only quality of his that his superiors acknowledged. Pulling the handgun from its holster, Chris steadied his grip on the weapon and stared hard at the light above. Satisfied with his aim, he pulled the trigger once, and the light went out.

"What…" Jill quickly fell silent as a mechanical whirring came. Gears turned and the hatch fell open, dropping a ladder that remained suspended in the air.

Chris snorted and holstered the weapon as he muttered, "This is stupid as hell…"

Jill made a leap for the end of the ladder, but fell short. She jumped upwards again and failed to catch the bottom rung once again.

"Here." Chris offered, kneeling on the ground and lacing his fingers together to form a makeshift step.

She hesitated, but inevitably accepted his assistance. Jill stepped into his hand and he lifted her with ease, bringing her within reach of the ladder. She quickly hoisted herself up and began to climb the ladder, a metallic echo following each step upwards. Chris followed suit, jumping upwards and ascending the ladder behind her.

He winced as he pulled himself out of the hatch, clenching his eyes closed as he was assaulted by the bright lights above after romping around in the darkness. Jill already stood at attention as she walked the perimeter of the room in exploration. It was clinical in nature, bright white with a metallic table positioned in the center of the room. Several microscopes lined the countertops that lined the room and an electrical hum came from the refrigerator nearby.

"A lab?"

Jill shrugged. In the now adequate lighting, he was able to study her for a moment. He took in the sight of her, clad in black with a plastic vest that was too wide for her slight frame, and Joseph's accusation from earlier played through his mind—" _I guess you're not worried about the outcome because you get to spend the evening with your crush."_

Was that what it was? The prospect of being a grown ass adult with a _crush_ seemed so ridiculous when he took it into consideration. Jill was attractive with those bright blue eyes, full lips, and tantalizingly curvy figure. It was something that he figured any man could admit and he told himself that it was nothing more than natural attraction. It was chemistry or whatever. Pheromones.

"I don't think it's here." She spoke, pulling him from his thoughts. "I mean...whatever _it_ is. There's nothing here."

"Yeah, probably not that easy."

He waved his hand towards the single door on the opposite wall.

"Remember, the others are probably here, too. We need to be careful." He advised and Jill nodded as she pulled her handgun from the holster on her thigh.

Chris hesitated at the door, leaning close to the wooden surface in an attempt to discern any potential sounds from beyond it, but was met with silence. With his hand pressed against the door, he looked back at Jill once before carefully pushing it open.

He was greeted by a bookshelf that towered over him, tightly packed with hundreds of books. The yellow track lighting above revealed the dust that lingered in the air that was pungent with the stale odor of old books. Their view of the entirety of the room was obscured by the shelf and he nodded to the right side of the shelf, prompting Jill to head in its direction.

In unison, they rounded the shelf with their weapons drawn to find another identical shelf. Jill gestured towards a twisting path created by the shelves and Chris nodded, following the path ahead of him. His boots made a faint _thud_ against the rug beneath his feet and he exhaled slowly through his nose, vexed by both the troublesome layout of the library and the obscurity of the mission at hand. He skimmed over the titles of the books nearby, finding that many were nothing more than scientific textbooks. _Nothing interesting here..._

He heard something heavy hit the ground and he spun around in search of the source of the sound. With as much stealth as he could muster, he hurried between the shelves, blood beating in his ears with fear. Sharply, he turned right around a corner and let out a sigh of relief at the sight before him. Joseph frowned hard as his eyes met Chris's, his hands held up in surrender. Jill had her left arm hooked around his shoulder with her weapon pointed directly at his temple.

"You play dirty, Valentine." He whined, pouting.

"Can't play dirty if there are no rules." Jill hissed. "Who's your partner?"

Joseph shook his head glumly as he answered, "Vickers."

With an amused smile on his face, Chris secured the rest of the library with Jill and her hostage in tow. He allowed her to exit first, using Joseph as a meatshield as she stepped into the lobby of the building that had seen better days. The tile flooring was dingy, cracked in various places and framed by dirt that stained the grout. A few nondescript paintings hung on the walls surrounding the first floor and a staircase sat in the middle of the room, leading to an open walkway above.

Jill pressed her knee against the back of Joseph's leg, prompting him to move forward. He shuffled out into the open foyer, hands still raised as Jill ushered him towards the center. Chris quickly swept the area to ensure none of their opponents were lurking around and returned to the ground floor, heading towards the reception desk near the front door.

He swiftly rummaged through the drawers, procuring nothing but a stress ball with a smiley face printed on its front and a bizarre key. Chris tossed the stress ball to Joseph and smirked.

"Looks like you could use that, Frost."

Joseph began to knead the object in his hand and nodded appreciatively with an amused grin on his face. Chris glanced at the key again, swiping his thumb over the crescent moon that had been engraved on its face before handing it to Jill.

"It fits a wafer lock." She turned it over in her palm once before returning it to Chris. "Probably a desk or lockbox."

"Are you a door whisperer, Valentine?" Joseph whispered. "That's _so_ cool."

"I think the term is 'locksmith,' Frost." Chris rolled his eyes and made his way to the door on the opposite wall.

"Door whisperer sounds cooler." Joseph muttered to himself.

One of the upstairs doors slammed closed and Jill roughly pulled Joseph by the shoulder, backing towards the wall and out of sight. Chris took the opposite wall and aimed for the staircase, ready to fire. He didn't hesitate as Brad began to descend the stairs, oblivious to their presence, and eliminated him in a single pull of the trigger.

Brad stared down at his vest as it began to flash, dumbfounded. He looked down the stairs and Jill stepped into view, still holding Joseph at gunpoint.

"Come _on,_ Vickers!" Joseph chided. "You didn't even _look_!"

Brad angrily crossed his arms over his chest.

"In my defense, Frost," he defended, "I deal with chemicals, not combat."

Jill stood on her tiptoes, leaning in close to Joseph's ear as she asked, "Any last words, Frost?"

Joseph paused, stroking his chin in an exaggerated display of thought. Brad seated himself at the base of the stairs, resting his chin in his hands as he pouted.

"Actually, yeah," Joseph grinned wickedly, "Since there are no rules, why don't you let me go so we can all work together?"

"We don't need your help." Chris responded. "Good try, though."

"You sure?" Joseph asked in a sing-song voice, "Because I have a _cluuuue,_ you know."

Chris and Jill exchanged a look before she sighed, stepping away from Joseph. She rounded to his front and kept her weapon pointed squarely at his vest as she offered an open palm.

"Let's see it then." She demanded and Joseph excitedly rifled through the pocket on his cargo pants and slapped a brochure in her hand.

"A brochure for Raccoon Zoo?" She skeptically asked. "This isn't…"

"Hear me out!" Joseph pleaded, waving his hands in the air. "This is an Umbrella training facility, right?"

He pointed at the Umbrella logo that had been printed on a nearby tapistry. Chris vaguely remembered a mention of the company at some point in Chief Irons's speech, citing them as one of the major funders of the Bright Raccoon 21 initiative and, incidentally, S.T.A.R.S.

"Why is there a pamphlet for the zoo in a pharmaceutical company's training facility?" He asked rhetorically. "Duh! Cuz it's a clue."

The group was silent for a moment.

"Can I shoot him?" Jill asked enthusiastically.

Joseph looked at Chris, desperation evident in his eyes, and Chris shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

A light flashed to the left of his chest, right above his heart.

"I can't believe you'd do this to me, Valentine." Joseph sniffled, holding a hand to his chest as he dramatically stumbled backwards. "After all that we've been through!"

Jill raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by his statement.

"Remember the ride here?" He whispered as he dropped to his knees. "I thought...we had something special."

She shot him again and he fell backwards onto the tile, feigning death.

"That means Speyer and Aiken are still at large because I sincerely doubt these two took them out."

Joseph cracked open an eye. "What if I did?"

Jill didn't bother looking as she shot again, hitting him square in the abdomen.

"Dude!" He sat upright and pointed at her as he turned to face Chris. "Don't put your dick in crazy, Redfield!"

Chris felt his face burn as he began to ascend the stairs.

"Come on, Jill," he redirected, "Let's finish this."

* * *

Jill stood on her tiptoes as she stared directly into the statue's lifeless eyes. Chris recognized the figure as someone important in Greek mythology, but he hadn't paid enough attention in school to commit them to memory.

"There's something about this." She furrowed her brow as she hunched down, studying each crevice in the stone.

"I don't know, Jill." He sighed, exasperated. "Let's just keep looking. We can always come back."

She scrutinized the statue one final time before yielding. They had found themselves on the grounds behind the facility, accompanied by a sea of statues that stood eerily in the pale moonlight. Chris rubbed the back of his neck as he pondered for a moment. They had covered practically every inch of the facility and had yet to discover the mysterious object in question.

"Redfield!"

Chris acted on instinct, looping an arm around Jill's waist and pulling her beneath a nearby hedge. The twang in the voice unmistakably belonged to Forest and Chris cursed under his breath as he motioned for Jill to part ways with him. He crawled across the ground, the earth cool and soft beneath his palms as he moved to a bush nearby.

Richard stood vigilant on the terrace as Forest weaved between the statues. Chris wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he surveyed the landscape, trying to locate an adequate opening in which he'd be able to eliminate either of them. A large rock protruded from the mud nearby and he snatched it up, peeking around the edge of the bush to plan his trajectory.

He threw the rock across the yard, causing it to loudly collide against one of the statues. Forest spun on his heel and crept towards the source of the noise. Once the distance between he and Frost was minimized, Chris popped up from behind the bush and opened fire, shooting Forest in the back before ducking back beneath the plant.

"Dammit!" Forest dropped his gun and held his hands up in the air. "Redfield, I swear…"

Richard hopped off the terrace and beelined for the bush. His footsteps grew closer and Chris prepared himself. He had to be fast and accurate—missing the shot would surely lead to his own elimination.

Chris crawled to the side of the bush and rose, finger on the trigger as he aimed in Richard's direction, but he halted mid-movement. Richard stood with his palms visible and slowly turned, revealing the glowing mark on the back of his vest. Jill sighed and dropped her handgun to the ground and Chris grinned like a madman, impressed by her stealthy maneuver.

"Good shit, Valentine." Forest commended with a slow clap.

"I kind of forgot you were here." Richard sheepishly confessed as Jill began to search his pockets.

She retrieved a small silver box and pulled out her flashlight, shining it on the lock briefly before diverting her attention to Chris.

"It's a wafer lock." She announced and Chris pulled the key from his pocket to slip it in the lock.

It released, revealing a crescent moon made of silver that sat snugly within the velvet lining. Jill gasped, pulling it from the box to flip it over, noting a small protrusion on the back of it.

"I knew there was something about this damn statue!" She exclaimed, heading back towards the statue.

Jill stood on her tiptoes and shoved the moon into the tiara on the woman's head. The ground beneath her feet began to rumble and she stepped back, slack jawed with surprise as the statue rolled backwards on a track to reveal a staircase that led underground.

"I take back what I said earlier." Chris corrected himself as he stared down the staircase. " _This_ is stupid as hell."

The stairs led to a small room that harbored a massive metal storage chest. Chris looked at Jill and she nodded towards it, indicating for him to open it. The lid was heavier than expected and it groaned on its hinges as he lifted it.

A dozen colorful balloons floated out, hitting him in the face and causing him to stumble back. Chris waved them away and peered down into the chest to find the object they had spent the night searching for—a Mr. Raccoon bobblehead that seemed to taunt him with its smile as it rattled back and forth on its base.

"I'll be damned." Chris mumbled. "Joseph was right all along."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic is stupid as heck, but I couldn't resist implementing as many dumb Resident Evil tropes as I could. It's going to be a fun and light-hearted ride, guys.


	5. Petrol, Paper, & Fireworks

Chris Redfield hated many things. If he were to compile a laundry list of such things, in no particular order, he would most certainly include cold coffee, hairdressers who don't listen, screaming children, and avocado. After all, what the fuck was an avocado anyway? Was it a fruit? Was it a vegetable? Was it green pork grease? Chris couldn't be sure, but he knew he didn't want it in or around the general vicinity of his mouth.

Despite that, Chris readily admitted to himself that he would have rather eaten five avocados than attend a formal event such as this one. The music was irritating, the people were nosy, his tie was too damn tight, and what he truly wanted was a greasy, pepperoni-covered pizza, not hoity-toity cocktail shrimp and gluten-free whatever-the-fucks.

"This is the tightest shit ever, am I right, Redfield?" Forest excitedly elbowed him in the side hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

Did Chris mention that he hated Speyer too?

"About as tight as going through a woodchipper balls first, yeah." He punctuated his deadpan remark with a generous sip of the bubbly, fruity, sad excuse for alcohol that they had been served.

Joseph seemed perplexed by Chris's commentary. He crossed his arms over his chest and idly stroked at his jaw as he pondered the vivid mental image Chris had painted.

"Logistically," he said, "I don't see how you could get into a woodchipper balls first. If your anatomy bends like that, Redfield, you should probably see a doctor."

Chris chose not to entertain the conversation further and instead observed their surroundings. At the end of all the ridiculous tribulations they had been put through, Raccoon City Police and its shareholders organized an event in which the newfound S.T.A.R.S. members would be honored along with recipients of other various awards from both Umbrella and the RPD alike. The ballroom was unnecessarily lavish, illuminated by warm chandelier lighting and lined with tables that were set with more utensils than necessary as far as Chris was concerned.

He hated shit like this. The floor was polished to such an extent that the lighting was reflected back at him and it made him dizzy. Tons of people flitted about, women and men of various ages who most certainly made more money in a year than he ever would in his entire lifetime. His heart sank as he surveyed the sea of partygoers and he told himself that it wasn't because Jill Valentine appeared to be absent. Why wouldn't she have made the cut?

"Why are your panties always in a wad, Redfield?" Forest asked, voice sharp. "Lighten up a little and you might actually have some fun for once."

Joseph snickered as he quickly quipped, "He's just mad because Valentine isn't here."

Chris furrowed his brow, tempted to retort, but managed to restrain himself. He took another swig of the alcohol and contemplated just how many shitty shots of champagne it would take to get him drunk enough to endure his new colleagues for the remainder of the night.

"She's not?" He asked smoothly, attempting to play off the fact that he certainly _had_ noticed her absence. "Shame, guess she didn't make it."

He wasn't disappointed. There was no reason to be. They hardly knew each other. She was merely a good partner for the try-outs and he appreciated her efforts. These were the lies he told himself as Joseph stared him down, presumably searching for a hint of concern on Chris's face. He appeared to find none and popped a shrimp into his mouth.

"Who else got in?" He asked with interest, standing on his tiptoes to give himself a couple extra inches to peer into the throng of people. "I hope Vickers didn't."

Forest began to list off names, counting them on his fingers as he spoke, "There's you, me, Redfield, Sullivan, Ryman…"

He paused, gaze briefly falling on Chris.

"I heard Valentine and Chambers both made it."

Forest spoke Jill's name slowly, staring Chris down with each overly emphasized syllable. Chris paid him no mind as threw back his third glass of champagne and drowned out the conversation. If he was being honest with himself, he had only come to the damn event in hopes of seeing her. Chris didn't care about glory or being publicly honored for his accomplishments.

Maybe he could slip out unnoticed.

"Redfield!" He winced as he felt a hand land heavily on his shoulder. "Good to see ya, man!"

Kevin grinned to the circle of men and added, "You guys, too, of course."

Forest glared at him and Joseph openly sulked, clearly offended by Kevin's greeting.

"That was cold." Joseph hissed. "Colder than Redfield's balls that are turning blue cuz Valentine isn't here."

Kevin smirked knowingly, but said nothing. He reached over to snag Chris's half-finished glass and polished it off without warning. Chris normally would have protested, but he found that he couldn't be bothered to. It seemed like the alcohol was finally starting to hit him.

"No worries, Frost. Someday, you'll get noticed by a woman who isn't your mom." Chris responded, feeling loose.

Forest snickered and Kevin apparently choked on his own saliva. Joseph stared at Chris with a brief expression before he suddenly grinned, raising his hand into the air and exposing his palm.

"Pretty good one, Redfield!" He confessed. "Up high?"

Chris only stared and Joseph scowled.

"Y'all think I can find myself a rich, lonely cougar to be my sugar mama?" Forest asked as he peered around them.

Kevin snorted in disgust and Joseph took the question seriously, searching the crowd for eligible women. Forest made eye contact with a woman across the room and looked back at the rest of them, waggling his eyebrows before disappearing into the crowd. Joseph tossed another shrimp into the air and caught it in his mouth, earning a look of revulsion from a woman passing by.

Chris felt his breath hitch in his throat as he caught a glimpse of blue from across the room and he _knew_.

The shift in Chris's body language tipped Kevin off and he caught Frost by the shoulder, leading him away as he said, "Come on, Frost, let's see if we can convince a woman that you're not a fucking neanderthal so we can finally get you laid."

Joseph paused and stared Kevin down.

"You seriously think I'm a virgin?" He asked, voice elevated in surprise.

"Yes." Kevin didn't miss a beat as he roughly tugged him away.

The simple navy dress that she wore made her stand out from the flourishy sequins, lace, and low cut necklines of the other women in attendance. Jill Valentine was classy and reserved in both act and dress, but Chris couldn't help but notice the sway of the hem of her skirt that ended just above the knee. He thought she might be pretty, _beautiful_ even in spite of the anxious look on her face and the nervous rake of her hand through her short locks.

As she weaved between bodies, her pale eyes met his, and Chris couldn't suppress the goofy smile that broke out on his face. He half-waved lamely, keeping his hand low to keep from drawing too much attention, and Jill smiled warmly. Time seemed to slow as she approached him, the music around them drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. He watched her skirt sweep across the toned flesh of her thighs and his palms began to sweat.

Jill Valentine stood in front of him with a slight smirk to her lips and her cheeks glowing with that witchcraft women called make-up. Chris watched her long, dark lashes fan across her pale skin as she blinked and he thought that it might have been an insult to consider Jill Valentine maybe pretty. She was something more, he realized, as he watched her full lips part to speak.

"Hey."

Chris felt like the champagne—bubbly, sparkling, _bright_ —and he found that he didn't really care.

"Hey."

Under other circumstances, he might have kicked himself for his awkward delivery. This time, he felt too tingly and warm to bother.

"I'm glad you're here." He spoke without thinking, his face feeling numb. "I knew you made it."

Jill laughed and he thought it was the most charming sound he'd ever heard.

"My car broke down," she sighed heavily, clearly distressed by the inconvenience, "I almost didn't come."

The warm lighting cast a shadow that emphasized the faint cleft in her chin and he thought about pressing his thumb into it while angling her face towards his and—

"Me too," he paused, confused by his own words, "Not the car part. My car is fine."

She narrowed her eyes a little, still smiling as she searched his face for something. He felt hot under her gaze and shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"I think," he exhaled through his nose, huffing a laugh at himself, "I think I might be a little tipsy."

"You don't say." She teased and he saw something twinkle in those stormy blue eyes.

"In my defense, I was stuck with Speyer and Frost before you arrived." Chris tried his best to plead for forgiveness with his eyes. "The only way to endure it was with shitty champagne."

"You poor thing." Jill was sincere with her sympathy. "White girl wasted on champagne because of those two lunkheads."

Chris nodded his head and it made him dizzy. In the awkward silence that they shared, he became acutely aware of the orchestral music playing in the background.

"Hey, Jill," he looked down at his feet as he smiled sheepishly, "I can't dance, but will you dance with me?"

God, he loved her laugh. The fact that he could make such a serious woman giggle was the greatest accomplishment of his life. He could die tomorrow and it would have been worth it.

"Fair warning though," his voice cracked a little out of nervousness that managed to creep in despite the influence of alcohol, "I'm _definitely_ going to embarrass you."

Jill watched him. She looked him in the eyes, head tilted upwards on account of their height difference. Chris held her stare and swallowed hard, face so hot he feared that it might drip right off his skull. He didn't know what she was thinking, but he really hoped it was _yes._

"I'm not that easy to embarrass, Redfield." She took his hand in hers and he clumsily slipped his fingers between hers. "Do your worst."

He felt like he was floating as she led him to a clearing at the edge of the dance floor and he blamed it on the alcohol. Chris had no idea what the fuck he was doing, but he must have been doing something right because Jill fucking Valentine was standing right in front of him and putting his hands on her. He watched her position one of his hands on the curve of her hip and he thought that maybe he'd imagine her placing his hands in _other_ places later.

Jill held his other hand and tilted her head to the side with a smile.

"Just don't break my toes, big guy."

Her other hand came to rest on his shoulder and she moved. Jill stepped to the side and he stumbled with her, once to the left and then back to the right. He nearly tripped on his own feet as he peered down between them and tried to make sense of the movement. Left and right. Left. And. Right. Back and forth?

Chris bumped into her and, _god_ , she was laughing again. He drunkenly grinned and she placed her hand over his and slid it along the curve of her hip, bringing it closer to the small of her waist. She smelled as pretty as she looked, some floral shit he guessed, something he had never been exposed to before in the few trysts he had taken part in with women; women who weren't classy and pretty like Jill Valentine.

It felt like she was sweeping him across the floor with the grace of her movements. He staggered along, threatening to trip at any moment. Luckily for Chris, the song came to an end, and she stepped close to him in the pause. He felt her against him and he nearly groaned at the feel of her softness and warmth pressed against him because none of the _girls_ he had been with in the past ever felt like _that_.

He didn't realize the next song started. Chris felt like the world was spinning as she held her hands in his and twisted them around, swapping positions in tune with the music. She eventually closed the distance when he felt like he might vomit, holding them still as she rested her hand on his chest and they swayed once more.

"You look like you're going to throw up." She quietly observed and he tightened his hold on her hand.

"Not yet." He rested his chin on the crown of her head and closed his eyes. "Puking on you would totally blow my chances."

He felt her breath against his neck as she giggled.

"How bold of you to assume you had a chance in the first place."

His hand slipped down the flare of her hip and his fingertips ghosted over the sculpted edge of her ass.

"You wouldn't be dancing with me if I didn't." He brazenly countered with his liquid courage.

Jill stepped back and he spun her, extending his arm and drawing her close again.

"You're smarter than you look." She ran her fingers over his abs and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as she came dangerously close to the edge of his pants.

"You're just as smart as you are pretty," he continued before he had a chance to process what he said, "And that's a lot, in case you were wondering."

The music didn't resume. Instead, the lighting dimmed and all attention was drawn to the podium that stood at the front of the room. Brian Irons leaned into the microphone with a smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he greeted, "Thank you for joining us tonight!"

Jill moved away from him. Chris was already bored.

"There are many causes for celebration tonight!" He announced. "Bright 21 Ra—"

Chris tuned out the sound of his voice and watched Jill instead. She appeared to be listening intently to the speech, her nose occasionally wrinkling at his words as her eyes flitted across the stage.

"Did you drive?" She asked suddenly, tearing her attention away from Irons to look Chris in the eyes.

"Well, yeah," he couldn't seem to comprehend the intent of her question, "But…"

Tipsy had become an understatement. He was kind of drunk.

"I'll drive." She tugged at his sleeve. "Come on."

He didn't ask questions.

The cool air of the night was a relief against his flushed skin. Chris hesitated on the staircase outside of the building to take in a deep breath in the hope that the fresh air would help sober him. He loosened his tie and allowed his shoulders to roll back, eyes closed as relished in the tension being released. When he opened his eyes once more, he found that Jill was standing at the bottom of the staircase and watching him closely.

"What?" He descended the short set of steps and came to stand beside her.

Jill smiled and shook her head, lifting an open palm as she demanded, "Keys?"

Chris dropped them into her hand and led her to his beat up Honda with little shame.

"You know how to drive a manual, right?" He wrinkled his brow, berating himself for having not mentioned it sooner.

Jill stared at him from across the hood as she pulled open the driver's side door.

" _Yes,_ Redfield." She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly before ducking into the seat and Chris thought the sound of his surname in her voice was his favorite sound of all time.

The hotel was only a couple blocks away and Chris was incredibly grateful for it. In the confined space of his car, all he could focus on was _her_ —the smell of her, the sounds she made, the way she breathed, the flex of her hand as she shifted gears. He was drunk on more than champagne, he realized, and, for the first time that night, Chris felt a little embarrassed.

The lobby of the hotel was deserted and Chris was appreciative of that given the way he nearly tripped over a floor tile when he entered. Jill patiently waited at the elevator for him, temple resting against the cool metal as her hand hovered over the call button. Chris grinned stupidly once he came close and they waited for the elevator's descent.

"What floor are you on?"

What floor was he on?

"Uh…" He squeezed his eyes shut as though it was painful to think. "Five."

They stepped into the elevator and Chris held his breath as his elbow brushed against hers. Jill ran her fingers through her hair as the doors closed and he was mesmerized by the movement of her shoulder blades that were exposed by the cut of her dress. He hated how fast that elevator moved and, before he had a moment to blink, he was standing outside of his hotel room and groping the lining of his pockets.

"Shit…" He tapped his pockets from the outside of his pants once more for good measure. "I think I lost my key."

Jill gave him a sympathetic look that made him feel pathetic. She must have thought he was the dumbest motherfucker on the planet and he couldn't blame her.

"You don't have to wait on me." He murmured as he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. "I can just go down to the service desk and…"

She stepped between him and the door, kneeling down on the carpet to observe the lock on the door handle. Jill procured _something_ from _somewhere_ and began to fiddle with the lock until he heard an audible click and she pushed the door open carefully.

"You can do that in the morning when you're sober."

Chris felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He had forgotten that Jill could do that.

"Damn, Jill, you're like…" He really struggled to get his point across. "...the _master_ of unlocking."

She closed her eyes and laughed, shaking her head all the while. The hallway was dark aside from the flicker of the light bulb at the opposite end of the hall and he lost track of where they were. He watched her in that bluish light, almost forgetting to breathe in their close proximity. She met his stare intensely with those damn blue eyes and he followed the length of her nose, the shape of her cheeks, and the cut of her jaw with his own.

His attention halted at her mouth.

Chris thought about a lot of things. He thought about the way her mouth would feel against his and wondered if she'd make a sound when he caught her plump lower lip between his teeth. He thought about how she'd feel pressed against him in a way that wasn't as innocent as before and if she'd feel as hot to the touch as he suspected he did. Chris thought about before, wondered if she'd instead manhandle him and force him into another deadly arm bar if he tried to make a move.

But, _fuck,_ he wanted to. He wanted to kiss her like he'd never kissed a woman before. Chris wanted _so_ many things as he stared at her pretty mouth that was just as pretty as she was smart.

"Chris."

Chris was wrong. Hearing her say his name was his favorite sound of all time.

He tore his attention away from her mouth to look her in the eyes.

"Yeah?"

He winced at the sound of his own voice and he felt his heart skip a beat when she stepped closer to him. Jill seemed as though she was only a hair's width away as she rose onto her tiptoes and pressed those fucking lips against his cheek.

"Have a good night." She said, voice hot and fleeting against his ear as she pulled away.

"Y-you too." He managed to respond as he swallowed the massive lump in his throat that threatened to suffocate him.

Jill smiled again, this time with her bright white teeth, and she hesitated for a moment. She looked at him, let her eyes roam along his body, and tucked her dark hair behind her ear. With a curt nod of her head, her demeanor shifted, and she brushed past him to head back to the elevator.

Chris watched the sway of her hips as she left, tortured by both the ache of embarrassment and the one between his thighs.


	6. Thrown to the Wolves

Chris felt as though his heart was racing a million times a minute. He could feel sweat beading on the back of his neck and he let out a slow breath through his nose, doing his best to calm his nerves. The consequence of his next action could very well be life or death, victory or defeat. He had to think it through and be as precise as possible. There was no room for failure.

"Come _on,_ Redfield! Make your move!"

The irritation in Joseph's voice was evident and he swore he heard the impatient tap of Kevin's foot against the tile flooring. His entire team was waiting for him to make his decision and there he was, choking at a pivotal moment. If he lost, he deserved it. Time to nut up.

Chris slid his piece into the king's row and smirked smugly.

"King me, bitch."

Joseph sighed and reluctantly placed a piece on top of Chris's, granting him additional power.

"Might as well just forfeit this one." Kevin commented as he placed a sympathetic hand on Joseph's shoulder. "Redfield is ruthless in checkers."

The first couple of weeks at the Raccoon Police Department had been uneventful. For the most part, it consisted of two things that Chris absolutely hated—paperwork and learning modules. To top it all off, the damn precinct was a recycled museum and filled with all kinds of creepy ass artwork and weird, completely unnecessary contraptions that made the most mundane task ten times more insufferable. Why were the doors marked with playing card suits? Why couldn't things be labeled _properly_?

Naturally, that was not the extent of Chris's frustration. As luck would have it, he had been assigned to Alpha team and was under the jurisdiction of the douche canoe with sunglasses seemingly surgically attached to his face. Of course, fate decided that wasn't a horrible enough punishment for Chris, and thus Alpha team included both Frost _and_ Ryman. At least he had Barry to keep him sane.

And _Jill._

Chris thought he might have quit were it not for her presence. There was something about her that always managed to soothe his irritation with just a mere glance in her direction. Jill was a breath of fresh air and the perfect mediator between Frost and Ryman's bullying and himself. Though she likely had no idea, Jill was responsible for keeping his temper under control.

"Fine." Joseph threw his hands up in the air. "Whatever, I forfeit."

"Damn right you forfeit." Chris snarkily responded. "I'm the undefeated checkers _champ_ in this unit."

"I bet Speyer could beat you." Joseph quickly countered with a shit-eating grin. "He's beaten _everyone._ "

Chris crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. Just the mere mention of the jerk-off's name was enough to make his blood boil. Everyone seemed to be hell-bent on drawing comparisons between him and Speyer and it was beginning to get on his nerves. Sure, Speyer was a good shot, but Chris was _better._ What was the big deal? Why did it have to spark so much competition?

"Sure." He finally answered with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, uninterested in entertaining the conversation any further.

Joseph seemed as though he had more to say, but held his tongue as the door to the office was pushed open. No one had heard the footfalls approach, a trait that all of S.T.A.R.S. had quickly attributed to Jill Valentine. Chris felt something catch in his chest when she slipped through the door and carefully closed it behind herself.

"I brought coffee." She held up the cardboard cup carrier to emphasize her point and Joseph nearly knocked over his chair as he leapt towards her.

"But what _kind_ of coffee?" He innocently asked, prompting a sigh from Jill.

"Yes, Joseph," she grumbled as she presented his cup, "A large salted caramel mocha frappuccino with five pumps of vanilla, four pumps of caramel sauce, four pumps of caramel syrup, three pumps of mocha, three pumps of toffee nut syrup, double blended with extra whipped cream."

She paused as she recounted the order in her head before adding, "And a sprinkle of pumpkin spice on top."

Joseph let out a dramatic gasp, batting his eyelashes as he took the cup from her.

"I can't believe you remembered!" He gushed. " _Nobody_ ever remembers!"

"Just make sure the barista didn't spit in it." Jill advised, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "She was less than enthusiastic about your order."

Kevin laughed as he brushed past Joseph to retrieve his own black coffee, "Only spit? I would have shit in it. Wouldn't even be able to tell with all that damn sugar."

Joseph glared at him, forced into silence as he greedily sipped at his drink. Jill passed a coffee to Barry who had been tucked away in the back of the room, cursing under his breath as he attempted to solve the three puzzles required to power on the computer in order to check his work email.

At last, she gracefully slipped into her chair beside Chris and snuck a cup onto his desk.

"With a secret shot of french vanilla." She whispered with a slight smirk. "I've got your number, Redfield."

Chris hid his grin behind his cup as he took a healthy swig of his coffee. Jill had a hell of a lot more than just his number, if he was being honest with himself. She had his whole fucking heart in the palm of her hand and didn't even know it. Chris Redfield hadn't ever been the kind of guy to develop a crush until Jill Valentine waltzed into his life and, surprisingly, he allowed himself to roll with it.

He watched her readjust her beret with a serious expression on her face as she prepared for the arduous task of attempting to log into her computer. She tapped a few keys on the keyboard and turned to Chris with a perplexed expression.

"We need a _card key_ now?" She asked, clearly irritated by the discovery.

"Oh yeah," he pulled open the top drawer of his desk to procure a card, "And something about how our badges have hidden USBs in them to give us access."

Jill pulled her badge from her hip and studied it hard, turning it over in her palm as she attempted to locate said secret. With an audible click, a USB connector jutted out from the top of the badge and she stared at it incredulously.

"Just…" She let out a sigh and shook her head, " _Why_?"

Chris shrugged.

"I think I'm just gonna accidentally let the next group of meth heads we bust take my computer for drug money." He gestured towards the massive monitor on his desk. "Don't have to deal with it if I don't have a computer."

Jill rolled her eyes as she angrily jammed the USB into place for the third time, "Yeah, genius plan, Redfield."

In the brief period of silence, they were collectively able to recognize the footfalls that drew near from the hallway. Joseph quickly threw himself into his chair and grabbed the closest book, opening it to a random page as Kevin began to wildly tap the spacebar on his keyboard in hopes of waking it from sleep. Chris remained unaffected even as Wesker whisked into the room, expression grim.

"Alpha team." He greeted, voice flat and even.

Chris wondered if Wesker had ever been enthusiastic about anything in his entire miserable life.

"I have assignments."

Joseph jolted upright, posture ramrod straight as he patiently waited to hear the details of his impending task and Chris felt a sense of unease. With his luck, he'd get stuck working a case with Frost or Ryman. Hell, maybe Wesker would bring Speyer over from Bravo to assist just to spite him. He seemed like the kind of guy who got off on others' misery.

"Barry. There's a John Doe downstairs. Evidence of foul play." He leisurely walked across the room to hand Barry a file.

Joseph was anxiously gripping the armrests on his chair, excitement nearly bubbling over as the anticipation slowly killed him.

"Ryman and Frost. Mrs. Edwards is downstairs. She would like to report a murder." As he concluded his statement, his mouth twitched, threatening to form the faintest hint of a smirk.

Joseph nearly fell out of his chair. Exasperated, he ran a hand over his face as he shouted, "Come _on!_ Everyone knows Mrs. Edwards is demented!"

Wesker crossed his arms over his chest, unsympathetic, "Then it'll be a simple case to close."

He turned back towards the rest of the room and, despite the shades, Chris _knew_ he was staring right at him.

"Chris." Wesker spoke with an edge to his voice, hesitating before softly adding, "Jill."

Chris might have been annoyed by the tone in his voice were it not for the fact that he included Jill in the following breath. He quickly stole a glance at Jill, but her attention hadn't faltered from Wesker.

"A missing persons case."

He divulged nothing else as he passed a folder to Jill. She accepted it with careful hands and gave Chris a quick look that he couldn't quite discern the connotation of.

"I expect nothing but the best from _Alpha_ team." Wesker spoke, tone rigid and nearly threatening.

With nothing else to say, he nodded curtly and exited the room, leaving the S.T.A.R.S. to fend for themselves.

"Mrs. Edwards? _Really_?" Joseph muttered contemptuously. "Is this really what S.T.A.R.S. is for?"

Chris wasn't entirely sure what the hell the purpose of S.T.A.R.S. was, but as long as a paycheck came every two weeks, he couldn't complain. He glanced over at Jill with a sly smirk. She bowed her head away from Joseph's view and shook her head with a small, amused smile on her face.

"Tough luck, Frost." Chris said, "Maybe next time."

Joseph shot him a pointed look.

"Easy for you to say." He grumbled. "You have an _actual_ case."

Jill swiveled around in her chair, facing Joseph. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear and smiled warmly.

"Maybe he's testing you." She conjectured, nodding her head to the door through which Wesker exited. "If you do it well, you'll probably get something better soon."

Joseph seemed offended and incredulously asked, "Seriously? You think I need to _prove_ myself?"

Chris couldn't suppress his quiet snicker.

"That's it!" Joseph jumped to standing, knocking over his chair in the process. "I'm gonna show you up so hard, Redfield. Just you wait!"

Chris wasn't entirely sure why Joseph singled him out, but he shrugged anyway and mumbled, "I'll be sure to hold my breath."

Jill rested her chin in her hand as she flipped open the folder. She skimmed over the first page, eyes hesitating over the photo of the woman who had gone missing.

"Annalise Walker," she read aloud, "44 years old, 5'3", 140 lbs. Last seen working at her job as a cashier for a small grocery store chain. No children, never married."

"She sounds like the most boring person ever." Chris snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

"Well, if I was going to kill someone, she'd sound like a pretty good candidate." Jill dryly said, catching him off guard.

Chris smirked. As dark as her commentary was, he couldn't disagree with her logic. Joseph, however, seemed much more appalled.

"What the hell, Valentine?" He stared at her, wide-eyed in horror. "Is there something about you that we don't know?"

Jill looked back at him from over her shoulder with a roguish smile, "I can think of plenty of things."

Barry chuckled quietly from the back of the room, shaking his head despite his amusement. Joseph was flabbergasted by the playfulness in Jill's tone. She was ordinarily reserved, almost cold and always strictly professional. To see her begin to open up to them was exciting as far as Chris was concerned.

"Who reported her missing?" Kevin inquired.

"Her manager. Apparently, she's never missed a day of work."

"How long has she been missing?"

"Four days."

Kevin laughed and shook his head, "Yeah, guys, good luck with that one. It's a cold case if I've ever heard one."

He looked over at Joseph and grinned.

"Come on, Frost. Let's go chat with Mrs. Edwards. Maybe she'll hit on you this time instead."

* * *

The interview with Annalise's coworkers had yielded absolutely nothing noteworthy. As far as they knew, she had no friends or family, though one of the stock boys felt the need to mention that he thought he _might_ have seen her buy cat food once. Chris thanked him for his attention to detail and ensured him that they would bring in her cat for questioning, a remark that earned a swift elbow to the ribs from Jill.

As the day went on, Chris found himself becoming increasingly more irritated with the assignment. Upon examining Annalise's apartment, he found that the stock boy had been very wrong in his assumption. The woman was so boring that she didn't even have a damn _cat_ to witness her potential kidnapping and murder. She didn't own a computer, there was no diary full of dark secrets, and he couldn't find so much as an address book. As far as he could tell, Annalise was an android, and he was eager to pitch that theory to Joseph later on.

"You know," Jill said as she strummed her fingers against the tabletop, waiting for their coffee orders to be fulfilled, "In Japan, there's a phenomenon where people are thought to willingly disappear. They call them 'evaporated people.'"

"Kind of a shitty title." Chris nodded to the barista as she passed them their cups.

"Yeah, well, maybe Annalise doesn't want to be found. What if she just wanted a fresh start?"

Chris gave her a skeptical look, not quite buying into her theory. What could possess an ordinary person to fake their own disappearance?

"Why disappear like that? Why not just pack up your shit and go? Doesn't make sense. I mean, it's not like she had a criminal history."

Jill took a sip of her coffee with a pensive expression on her face.

"It could have been cathartic. Start over from scratch with no ties to your previous life."

He watched her for a moment. Jill idly trailed her finger along the plastic edge of her cup lid, blue eyes focused on an insignificant point on the table as she appeared to be lost in thought.

"Sounds like you've put thought into this before," Chris said softly, "Did you 'evaporate' once too?"

Jill laughed and shook her head, "No, but it's a romantic thought, isn't it? Haven't you ever thought about what it'd be like to have a different life?"

Of _course_ he had thought about it. Chris Redfield's life was full of hypotheticals—what if his parents had never died, what if he could afford for Claire to go to college, what if he had just swallowed his fucking pride and not gotten his ass kicked out of the Air Force, what if he had just kissed Jill Valentine like he fucking wanted to a few weeks ago?

"Yeah, maybe." He shrugged. "Everyone does. Probably."

"Maybe Annalise had bigger balls than the rest of us."

It wasn't a particularly pleasant mental image and Chris decided not to entertain it any longer than he already had. Instead, he wondered what had happened to Jill Valentine to tempt her into seemingly disappearing off the face of the earth. As far as he could tell, she was fearless, and it was difficult to fathom something that would rattle her in that way.

"Wesker doesn't really expect us to be able to solve this, does he?" He asked a little nervously. "I mean, I thought S.T.A.R.S. was for anti-terrorism, violent crimes, and shit like that."

"I don't know," Jill grinned in that shit-eating way that she was quickly becoming infamous for, "You think you're ready to take down some terrorist scum, Redfield?"

He supposed he had a point. Truth be told, he had no fucking idea what he was doing.

"Fake it until you make it. I'm sure we'd figure it out eventually."

It was the story of his life, really. What a motto to live by.

* * *

The apartment he rented wasn't anything to write home about. The landlord was shady, the bathroom door didn't lock properly, and the carpet smelled like Indian food, but it was the best he could do at the time with the pennies he had saved from bouncing. He was grateful that Claire hadn't been bothered by picking up and moving to Raccoon City—in fact, she had been a little eager about leaving her high school behind.

"Whatever that is," Chris said as he stepped through the door, "It smells amazing."

Claire poked her head out from the kitchenette and wrinkled her nose.

"Who said I made _you_ any?" She said with an impressive eye roll that he assumed was genetically coded into all teenagers.

"Hey!" He kicked off his boots, grinning at his sister's antics. "I'm the one putting a roof over your head. You better have made me some."

Ten minutes later, he was digging into what he proclaimed to have been the best baked ziti of his life. Claire wrinkled her nose at the speed with which he downed the pasta and stared at him intently.

"You're going to choke." She observed. "And I won't do the heimlich. You're too heavy."

Chris slowed his pace by a marginal amount.

"Did you see any gross murders today?" She inquired, an eyebrow raised with curiosity. It was a question she asked him every day, one that he had failed to deliver the desired answer to.

"Nope," he spoke through a mouthful of noodles, "But I got a missing persons case."

"Like an 'oops-I-probably-got-murdered' missing persons case?" Her eyes lit up at the prospect of it and Chris wondered if he should put a restriction on Claire's horror movie addiction.

"Uh," he coughed, "Maybe? I don't know. Some chick is missing."

"Well, what do _you_ think happened?"

"Fuck if I know." He reached over to snatch away her bottle of beer and downed it with a generous gulp. "You shouldn't be drinking, by the way. You're seventeen."

Claire huffed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. She elected to ignore his half-assed attempt at parenting and instead continued to press him for more information.

"Is she sketchy?"

"Nah. She sounds like the most boring person on the planet." He set his fork down with an audible clatter. "My partner thinks she might have voluntarily disappeared."

Claire pursed her lips in thought as she considered it.

"I mean, maybe." She shrugged her shoulders as she collected their plates to deposit them into the sink. "Maybe she's a _spy_."

"Doubt it. Jill thinks her life was so boring that she just decided to get a new one."

Claire paused in the midst of rinsing the plates to turn back to face her brother, the water still running.

"Who's Jill?"

"My partner." He quickly answered. "Don't waste water. That shit gets expensive."

Claire complied, but not before rolling her eyes. She snatched up a tupperware container and returned to the kitchen table, popping off the lid to reveal homemade cookies.

"Is she hot?"

He coughed, nearly choking on a piece of cookie.

"Huh?"

"You heard me," Claire insisted, "Is she hot?"

"I mean…"

Her face lit up as she slammed her fist down on the table, pointing at him accusingly.

"You _do_ think she's hot!" She exclaimed. "Shit, Chris, it's about time. I was starting to suspect you were straight up aromantic or something."

Chris had no idea what the fuck she was talking about. He decided to overlook it as he continued to feign innocence.

"She's my partner, Claire," he grumbled, "My _work_ partner. It's not like that."

"Uh-huh." Claire smiled. "Your _hot_ work partner."

Chris felt his cheeks begin to burn.

"I swear to god, Claire, I will take away your movies or something."

"Do it and I'll tell Jill you think about her while you jerk it."

"Oh my god, you're so gross."

"I learned it from you, dumbass."

* * *

It was far too early for Joseph's bullshit. He excitedly paced back and forth alongside Chris's desk, his hands anxiously clasped behind him. Every so often, he would turn towards Chris to speak, and Chris would hold up his hand to stop him.

"Not until at _least_ 5:30." He grumbled. "I'm not even awake yet."

"But…"

"I need coffee first."

"You already have coffee."

Chris looked down at the cup that sat on his desk and laughed.

"Even if I ground up the beans and snorted them directly, it still wouldn't give me enough patience to deal with you."

Joseph pouted as Jill entered the office.

"Jill," Joseph whined, "Chris is being mean to me."

She dropped her bag in her chair and looked over at Chris with a stern, motherly expression.

"Chris, don't pick on disabled people. It only makes you look bad."

Joseph frowned at the back-handed defense, but said nothing. He waited for Jill to take a seat before speaking.

"You guys are gonna regret being mean." Joseph declared. "Luckily for _you,_ I'm a nice guy, so I thought I'd share some of my theories about your missing person."

Chris was compelled to preemptively beat his head on his desk. Jill tucked some of her dark hair behind her ear as she pulled her beret from her desk drawer, taking a moment to reshape it before donning it. He never paid much attention to clothing, but Chris had to admit that he liked the way she wore it.

"Theory number one!" Joseph held up a finger for emphasis. "Alien abduction!"

Chris leapt out of his chair in a mock show of a cheer, "Oh wow, that's it! Case closed!"

Jill covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile as she began the process of attempting to log into her computer.

"Theory number two!" He glared at Chris. "Cannibals. You can't find the body because someone ate it."

"I don't even _want_ to know what I just walked in on." Kevin shook his head as he made his way to his desk.

"I'm solving Chris and Jill's missing person case, Ryman." Joseph grumbled.

"Oh, is that it?" Kevin laughed. "Silly me."

"And," Joseph took a long, dramatic pause, "Theory...number...three!"

His audience did not wait with baited breath.

"Suicide. Maybe she jumped in the river or something."

Jill looked up from her computer, a little surprised.

"That's it?" She asked. "No Sasquatch helped her do it?"

Joseph broke out into boisterous laughter.

"Oh, Jill!" He managed between laughs. "Don't be stupid. Sasquatch isn't _real._ "

Jill frowned as she turned back to her computer, shaking her head as she whispered, "Oh yeah, silly me."

Wesker entered the room and Chris couldn't tell if he was angry or just merely wearing his typical resting bitch face.

"Two more missing people."

He dropped a folder on both Joseph and Jill's desks.

"Get to work."

And then he was gone.


End file.
